


Shelter From Cold

by torchestogether



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Depression, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Homelessness, M/M, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Snowed In, Spideypool - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:44:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torchestogether/pseuds/torchestogether
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The snowstorm was too severe for anyone to sleep out on the streets. Peter knew it was a bad idea, but even Deadpool deserved to have someone looking out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Peter tugged his scarf tighter around his neck as he hurried back to his apartment. The wind was relentless, stinging painfully against his face and burning his lungs. The weather wasn’t supposed to get bad until the next morning, but the reports were proving to be wrong. The snow had already started to lay on the ground, making the rush home from work treacherous. He had already almost slipped on the icy sidewalk a few times, but thanks to his enhanced reflexes, he had managed to avoid any actual spills.

 

He had wanted to leave over an hour ago, but his boss had been breathing down his neck all week and had shot glares in his direction any time Peter even glanced towards the door. He cursed himself for leaving his web slingers at home that morning; if he had brought them, he could have avoided walking on the slick walkways and would have been home already. The thought of his warm apartment made him push his glasses up further and duck his head against the wind to walk a little faster.

 

 _Almost there. I’m going to have the world’s biggest cup of hot chocolate when I get home. Maybe I’ll just make it in a popcorn bowl._ Peter tried to block out the blizzard swirling around him, but a crash in an alley made his pace falter. The Spider-Man portion of his brain instinctively thought someone might be in danger, but after a quick scan around the area, he saw nothing. _Not every noise in this city is the start of some fight or crime._

 

He pulled his scarf over his chin and began to set off again, but another crash echoed out and was followed by a muffled yelp. Peter ached for the warmth of his apartment, so close that he could be out of the weather within minutes. If he had been any other citizen in the city, he could have pushed the noises out of his mind and kept to himself. Sometimes he wished he could go back to the days of minding his own business while walking down the street, but that felt wrong to do now. He might not have his Spider-Man costume on, but this didn’t seem like a situation where it would be needed. There were no indications that it was anything shady; it sounded more like someone had wandered off and gotten lost after drinking or possibly a homeless person searching for food. He didn’t need to be Spider-Man to be a decent human being. Besides, if this somehow escalated into something dangerous, his spidey-sense would come to the rescue and it had remained quiet so far.

 

“Hello?” Peter called out, keeping his voice down because of the hour. “Are you alright over there?”

 

A wooden moving pallet fell over on its side at the end of the alley with a loud bang. It had been standing upright beside a dumpster, but when it fell, it knocked over some cardboard boxes and plastic tarps with it. There was a faint rush of angry muttering that ended in a noise that seemed more like a childish whine than anything else. Peter couldn’t go back to his apartment and pretend he hadn’t noticed this. It was too cold outside in the snow for someone to safely sleep here. He wasn’t sure what his plan of action would be, but he knew he had to help them somehow.

 

Peter slowly walked to the back of the alley, keeping his footsteps even and audible enough that the person wouldn’t be startled or threatened. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help. Can you come out here and talk to me?”

 

“We know him!” The voice said in an excited whisper.

 

The person sounded vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite place it. He stopped a couple of feet away and waited. There was a lot of shuffling and some cursing, but finally the dented box on the top of the collapsed pile flew off. A figure pulled themselves out of the mess and shook themselves off like a wet dog.

 

“You’re not Spidey,” the man wagged his finger and shook his head.

 

Peter’s eyes widened. He should have known; that voice had a habit of not shutting up whenever they worked together, but that hadn’t happened in a few months. The man stood and stared back at Peter with his head tilted to the side in confusion. His red and black suit was ripped and bloodied, exposing the skin underneath. His ever present mask stared back at him without a sound and Peter realized he was waiting for a response.

 

“I’m Peter,” he announced, immediately beating himself over the head in his mind for giving the mercenary his real name. He had no intentions of revealing that he _was_ in fact Spider-Man, but it was still probably not the smartest idea to give out real information to someone like Deadpool.

 

Deadpool’s masked eyes somehow narrowed. Peter had never been able to quite figure out how he was able to show so much expression behind a mask. He knew a normal person would run away at the sight of the notorious merc, but he couldn’t bring himself to pretend to be afraid. Peter actually liked spending time with him whenever the two of them worked together.

 

“You sound like one of my friends. I thought you were him,” Deadpool told him. Explaining himself was something the merc rarely did, so this was certainly a strange night indeed. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other like he was unsure of what to do.

 

“I’m sorry.” Peter didn’t know where the next words came from, “It’s too cold outside. Do you need a place to stay the night?”

 

Deadpool’s mouth fell open in shock. Peter knew this was not even close to the normal response the merc had when people interacted with him. From their limited amount of time together, he had realized that the merc was often badly mistreated by others and had a deep hatred for himself. This was possibly the first time someone had offered the man any semblance of kindness in a long time.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Well that wasn’t quite the answer Peter had been expecting. “Haven’t you seen the news? You have to know who I am. Why would you want someone like me to stay at your house?”

 

That was a valid point, but Peter had never felt threatened by the merc. The two had always had a tentative, but friendly working relationship and Peter knew he could always count on him to have his back during a fight. Of course, _Spider-Man_ was the one that knew all of that; Peter Parker should have been shaking in his boots at the mere sight of him. Peter knew that, but he couldn’t live with himself if he knew his sometimes-friend was sleeping outside in a blizzard.

 

“I know who you are,” Peter admitted. “I also know you aren’t the evil guy that the newspapers make you out to be.”

 

Deadpool laughed mockingly, “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve done things that would have you crying like a baby if I told you.”

 

Peter saw right through the defense mechanism, “I know that too. That doesn’t matter to me.”

 

The merc seemed confused by the way the situation was playing out, which didn’t come as a surprise. It did surprise Peter how much the other man’s wariness of other people saddened him even more. Deadpool may have done a lot of bad things over the years, but he was more than that. He had endured so much suffering over his lifetime, yet he still tried to be a good man as much as he could. Peter thought he just needed another person to treat him as an equal.

 

Peter turned and gestured for the other man to follow him. “Come on. My apartment isn’t far from here. There are cheesy horror movies and junk food as part of the deal if you come with me. I’ll try to refrain from sticking your hand in any glasses of water if you fall asleep too early, but no promises.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_This is the worst idea you’ve had yet._ Peter groaned to himself as he fumbled to unlock the door to his apartment. The walk from the alley hadn’t taken long, but neither men had spoken the entire time. Peter hadn’t even known Deadpool was capable of containing the long-winded rambles he was always spewing. The merc had followed him, keeping a few yards of distance between the two of them as if he was wary of Peter’s intentions.

 

The lock clicked and Peter pushed open the door. He stepped into his apartment, trying not to seem like he wanted to hesitate over the threshold. Deadpool already seemed uneasy about trusting someone he thought was a stranger and any strange movements or words might send him bolting back out into the cold. Peter flipped the light on and turned back towards the door. The merc stood out in the hallway, fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for his katanas and fight his way out of the building already. His reluctance was obvious, but the fact that he _hadn’t_ made his escape made Peter all the more glad he chose to reach out to him.

 

“There isn’t any free hot chocolate in the hallway. You have to come in here for that,” Peter told him, smiling and slowly moving to take off his coat and scarf. He didn’t want to move too quick and make himself seem like a threat. He hung the clothing up on a hook on the wall before turning to move into the kitchen. Pressuring Deadpool seemed like it would work against him; the merc was already in his building and he probably needed to take things at his own pace. Peter felt sad when he thought about how long it must have been since someone had willingly offered to spend time with the merc if he was this nervous about it.

 

Taking two mugs out of the cabinet, he then filled up the tea kettle to heat the water for the hot chocolate. He hummed softly to himself as he got the rest of the ingredients and smiling as he heard footsteps creep into the room behind him. He kept himself busy, letting the other man get used to his surroundings. When the water was hot enough, Peter quickly finished up the two mugs and added a healthy portion of whipped cream on the top of each.

 

“All done,” Peter announced. He turned back around and handed off one of the mugs. “Be careful though. It’s really hot, okay?”

 

Deadpool wordlessly took the mug, never shifting his eyes away from Peter as he stared back in shock. Peter was still slightly confused by the merc’s unusual silence, but he decided not to mention it. He moved to the living room, waving his hand to invite the other man along as he plopped down on the couch to turn the television on. After a few long minutes, the merc followed and tentatively sat down next to him.

 

“What do you want to watch? I have pretty much every bad horror movie in the world, a bunch of seasons for different shows, maybe a couple lame spy movies somewhere. What do you think?” Peter asked, sipping the hot chocolate.

 

“Why are you doing this?” was his only response.

 

Peter glanced over, eyebrows furrowed, “I always watch lots of movies when the weather is bad. Doesn’t everyone? I don’t want to put something on that you won’t like.”

 

Deadpool let out a self-depreciating laugh, “You know what I meant. Either you’re stupid or you’re as messed up in the head as I am if you think sitting on your couch with a known mercenary is a good way to pass the time. Why are you doing this? Why did you let me see where you live? Make me something to drink? Is this some kind of plan that the writer’s just haven’t clued me in on yet?”

 

“Writers?” Peter echoed. “Okay...I’m going to just ignore that. Whatever. The rest of it, I already explained to you. There’s a blizzard going on outside and I didn’t want you to be sleeping under a heap of garbage until someone comes along to dig you out of the ice in a few days. I have plenty of food and enough space here, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t offer some to you.”

 

“Oh, he really must be as crazy as we are. I hate when you’re right,” Deadpool murmured to himself. “We’re probably going to get axe murdered any second now. I should have never let you convince me to follow him, even if he _does_ sound like Spidey!”

 

Peter choked on his hot chocolate, spilling it over the side and onto the floor. Grabbing a few napkins left over from last night’s take out, he mopped up the mess and pretended he hadn’t heard that last part. “I’m not a serial killer, Deadpool. Relax. If I end up hovering over you with an axe at any point, you can leave. Otherwise, you should hurry up and pick a movie before I put on something really awful just to spite you.”

 

Deadpool stood up with an exaggerated huff and practically skipped over to the shelf that housed all the movies. He studied the boxes intently before bouncing up and down with a squeal and snatching one. Peter caught the box and snorted at the title as the merc put the disc in to start it.

 

“Really? The Lion King?” Peter laughed.

 

“How could I possibly pick anything else? And if you think I’m not going to sing along to every single part, then you’re in for a wonderful surprise, Petey,” the merc said as he threw himself back down on the couch.

 

The opening scene came on and Peter shook his head fondly, settling into the couch further. He felt more content at that moment already than he had in a long time, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

  
“Wade Wilson,” the voice startled Peter out of the movie’s first song. He turned with a puzzled look to the merc. He knew that was Deadpool’s real name; he had never been told, but the man had never kept it a secret from the rest of the hero and villain circles. Peter _hadn’t_ expected hear it from the man himself though, especially when he wasn’t even with him as Spider-Man. “That’s my real name. Thank you for this.”


	3. Chapter 3

The snow continued to fall outside at an alarmingly rapid rate. The traffic noise that was a constant presence in the city had fallen silent. There was a peacefulness about the city during a snowstorm that Peter had loved since a he was little. He could see the snow piling up on the windowsill, getting deeper every hour.

 

The pair had watched a few of the best Disney movies and had now moved on to Harry Potter. There was a certain winter-like feeling to those movies that Peter felt was appropriate when he picked the first one when it was his turn to choose.

 

The apartment looked like a cyclone had torn through; empty soda cans and dirty plates sat piled high all around them. It had been decided a few hours before that a movie marathon of such epic proportions called for an equally extravagant feast of junk food. They had microwaved every single box of pizza rolls, frozen burritos, and curly fries that had been stocked in the freezer. Peter knew this would mean that if the roads and sidewalks were still bad tomorrow, they would have to make a very unpleasant trek to the grocery store, but it would be worth it.

 

It was about three in the morning and neither one had made a move to get up from the couch despite their mutual exhaustion. The movie played on in the background as both men stubbornly fought off sleep. Peter realized that falling asleep on the couch with Deadpool...Wade...was not as strange an idea as he would have thought. Something about all of this just felt _right_.

 

Wade chuckled to himself in his sleep. His mask was rolled up just over his nose where he had moved it to allow better access to shove food in at breakneck speed. In the dim light of the movie, Peter could see the scars he had known about but had never seen. The skin was red and lined with countless jagged scars, some of them deep and painful looking, while others faded from years gone passed. Peter had heard the merc talk about his appearance like he was some kind of monster under that suit, too repulsive to ever let anyone see the man underneath. The small portion of exposed skin was not what he expected; it was not disgusting or frightening like he had been led to imagine. Peter wanted to trace his fingers across every scar and sooth the pain as much as he could.

 

The realization made Peter bolt upright on the couch. He had always liked teaming up with the merc when he was out on patrols. They fired jokes back and forth like good friends. Peter had known Wade was dangerous from the start; he had heard all about the man who murdered for money and couldn’t die. His association with the merc was always something that concerned him when he thought about his plan to one day join the Avengers. Despite all of that, he had come to consider Wade a friend. _A friend doesn’t think about rubbing his hands all over another friend’s face like a weirdo._

All traces of sleep shook themselves from his mind. He twisted his fingers together, trying to rationalize with his own mind that there was nothing more to it than that. Wade shifted in his sleep, his head rolling to the side and stopping to rest on the couch in Peter’s direction. Peter’s breath caught in his chest as he tried to will his eyes to look away. He wanted to lean over and move closer; it wouldn’t take much to bridge the gap. He could imagine how effortless it would be to close the distance, to press his lips against the ones he could finally see without the obstruction of a mask.

 

“Are you planning on how to murder me and cook me for dinner? Is that what’s happening?” Wade’s voice startled Peter out of his stupor, causing him to fall off the couch with a painful crash.

 

“What? No… I wasn’t… Nothing was happening! Why would something be happening?” Peter heard the words rushing out, but the sound was almost drowned out by his racing heart and absolutely mortified thoughts. _Oh god, he saw me staring at him! How long was he awake? That entire time?! Oh god, I’m such a creep. That whole “friend” thing is totally still convincing after THAT. I’m definitely convinced._

 

“Are you freaking out? Couldn’t think of a good recipe? I can help you know. Not that I’m a huge fan of eating people, but I supposed I _did_  eat all of your frozen burritos, so it’s only fair,” Wade enthusiastically said, clapping his hands together and smiling back at the grin that had formed on Peter’s face.

 

“Yeah, that’s totally what I was planning when I asked you here. A college student budget only buys so many frozen dinners and ramen. I have to get creative. Extreme couponing isn’t really my thing, so I had to settle on cannibalism,” Peter laughed. He should probably be more concerned by the fact that the only person who understood his sense of humor was an insane mercenary.

 

The two men giggled like children, both half delirious from lack of sleep and too many greasy snacks. Peter couldn’t stop smiling even when his cheeks began to ache.

 

Wade abruptly went silent, body tense and almost threatening. Peter took a shaky breath to calm himself down, but stayed silent as he watched the merc. Wade seemed to be struggling with the voices inside his head, his breath coming in shallow rasps. He clenched his hands, opening and closing them into fists. Peter knew this was what the other man looked like when he was trying to decide to fight or to run. There was panic in his expression.

 

“Wade…” Peter whispered.

 

“My mask,” Wade growled, “My mask is still up. You were looking at my face. Weren’t you?”

 

Peter held his hand out, reaching towards the other man to offer some sort of comfort. “I wasn’t going to take it off or anything. I didn’t move it.”

 

Wade threw himself to his feet and snarled. He pulled his mask down roughly to cover his face. “That’s not the point! You saw what’s under this. You saw how disgusting I am. I bet you couldn’t wait to see the horrible monster under all of it, right? That’s what you wanted when you invited me here. Morbid curiosity, huh? Is it repulsive enough for you? Give you a good story to tell all your little friends?”

 

Peter stood and glared back. His face reddened with anger. Those accusations were insulting and so far from the truth that Peter wanted to punch the man in front of him. His fists shook at his side. “How could you say that? I would _never_ do any of that. I would _never_ even think those things! You know I’m not like that, Wade.”

 

“I _don’t_ know that,” the merc laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know _you_! Why else would a random stranger invite me to their apartment? It all makes sense now. I need to get new boxes to talk to because the ones in my head are _useless_. Who cares if you sound like Spidey?! Doesn’t mean I should run off with you like a lovesick teenaged girl.”

  
Wade turned and ran to the window, flinging it open before Peter could even wrap his head around the movement. The merc jumped out and disappeared from sight. Peter rushed over, grabbing his web slingers from their hiding spot under the couch and prepared to follow him. The street below was empty, footprints from too many people down below blended together and erased any hint of which direction Wade had fled. 


	4. Chapter 4

Peter paced around the now empty apartment, glancing back towards the window every couple of seconds. He desperately wanted to hear the sounds of someone climbing back inside. He had been ready to chase after Wade, to explain that there was nothing for the merc to be ashamed of about the way he looked or the things he had done, at least not to Peter.

 

He couldn’t deny that Wade’s argument was valid. He didn’t know Peter Parker. He had followed him back to the apartment because he recognized Peter’s voice; it wasn’t Wade’s fault that Peter kept his secret bottled up inside. If he had known it was Spider-Man on that couch with him, the situation might have been completely different. He might have been able to trust that Peter’s intentions were good.

 

This wasn’t the first time that Peter found himself wishing he didn’t have to keep his two identities separate. Time and time again, he had to bite back the words from tumbling out when his Aunt May worried over his bruises and scrapes. He thinks back on all the times his boss had yelled at him about not getting enough pictures of Spider-Man; it would have been so easy to show the man exactly whose face he was yelling into. Gwen had known about his double life, but it eventually that knowledge had cost her dearly. Peter would carry the guilt of her death for the rest of his life.

 

His life had become too dangerous for the people in his life, but Wade was already a part of that world. He already knew about the dangers that existed out there. Of course, the glaringly obvious detail that Peter was now beating himself up about was the fact that Wade could not die. Wade wouldn’t be put into more danger than he already faced on a daily basis. Sure, it might be a risk to trust his secret with a man known as “the merc with a mouth,” but it would be better than never allowing himself to _try_.

 

The sun was beginning to come up, light slowly creeping into the apartment like it was trying to fill the void left when Wade had run off. Peter was beyond exhausted, but his mind was racing a mile a minute to figure out how to fix the mess he created for himself. Wade could be anywhere by now; the merc was extremely good at disappearing when he didn’t want to be found. Peter would never be able to track him down unless Wade wanted that to happen. He figured his best bet would be to let Wade come back to him; he couldn’t pursue him or the merc would take that as a threat.

 

He tore out a sheet of lined paper from one of his school notebooks, scrawling a message in big letters: **Wade, I have pancakes and an explanation for you. Spidey.** Peter only hoped that Wade would still be close by enough to notice and that no random strangers would come knocking on his door because of the message. He taped the sign to the window before forcing himself to retreat back to the couch and wrapping himself up with a blanket. Peter was determined to keep a careful watch on the window for any signs that Wade would reappear, but the chaos of everything since he had left work over a day ago finally caught up to him. He felt himself start to nod off and, despite his best efforts, soon drifted into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

Peter shivered under the blanket as the room’s temperature dropped. He buried his face into the side of the couch, grumbling unhappily in his sleep. He knew he shouldn’t have fallen asleep watching movies again. He could be in his own warm bed right now instead of curled up into a ball on the couch. _What a terrible idea this had been._

 

His eyes shot open. He had fallen asleep when he was supposed to be waiting for Wade to come back. _How long was I asleep? Shit! What if I missed him and he left again? Who am I kidding? He probably won’t come back. Why would he be watching my apartment and see that stupid sign anyway?_

 

Peter sat up and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. He could sulk and wallow in self-pity just as easily in bed. He rummaged around for his glasses, but they must have fallen off and gotten lost while he was sleeping. Peter gave up and stumbled to his room with his eyes only half open.

 

It took a few seconds for his brain to comprehend the scene that waited for him inside his room. He tried to blink away the blurriness, but even without his glasses, he knew the man in front of him.

 

Wade sat on the edge of his bed; his red and black suit a stark contrast against the blankets. The merc’s hands clenched the fabric with what seemed to be rage, but the rest of his body was defeated in its posture. He was hunched over, head bowed and gaze trained on the floorboards in front of him. There was no sign of recognition at Peter’s startled gasp.

 

“You came back,” Peter finally whispered. He stayed in his spot near the door, unsure what to expect from the merc.

 

A few long minutes ticked by in silence. Peter was relieved to feel no trace of his spidey-sense despite the tense and somewhat hostile atmosphere of the room. Wade was angry and confused, but he didn’t seem to want to hurt him, at least not in the very immediate future. Peter decided to take that as a good start.

 

“Are you him?” Wade’s voice was rough with anger and desperation. “Are you Spider-Man?”

 

The memories of Gwen’s death and all the dangers that came with being Spider-Man flashed through Peter’s mind. The loneliness that had become all too familiar in the years since he had first put on the mask made his chest ache as he could hear the same sadness reflected in Wade’s voice. Neither of them had to be alone anymore; all it would take would be one word.

 

“Yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for how long this took to get out. It's extra long, if that's any consolation! I'm not sure how great this is going to be (I'm still not used to writing smut, so I apologize in advance if it makes you cringe). I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this little mini story!

Peter’s response hung in the air, heavy in the silence that seemed to stretch on longer and longer. Neither man moved from their spots in the dark bedroom. For Peter, the fear that his admittance would be used against him had frozen him to the core. He had hoped Wade would respond, that he would do _something_ when Peter revealed his secret. The merc was never one to run out of things to say, so his silence was more than a little unsettling.

He debated moving closer, but Wade would certainly react to the movement as if it were a threat. The fact that he hadn’t moved from his perch on the edge of the bed gave Peter a small level of hope. Wade just as easily could have made a mad dash out the window again, but he had barely moved a muscle, barely even making a move to indicate that he had heard Peter’s answer.

“He knew who we were all along, but he wasn’t going to tell us who _he_ was,” Peter heard the merc whisper to himself angrily. Of course this was the reason behind the delayed response. This was how Wade processed things in his mind. The voices were both the irrational and rational parts of his mind that were constantly at war with each other; their existence a side effect of the experiments that had scarred the merc’s body and twisted his mind until their presence became just another part of Wade.

Peter’s felt sick that his actions had led to this. If he had trusted Wade sooner, this entire mess could have been avoided. He had liked spending time with the merc in the past, even coming to look forward to the times when the two could work together. The rest of the superheroes and crime fighters in the city were people Peter looked up to and aspired to be like, but Wade always made it _fun_. Those occasions were ones that made him remember why he put the mask on in the first place. He remembered that it wasn’t some arduous job that he had been forced into; Peter loved swinging between buildings and swooping in to catch the bad guys with a cheesy joke or a sarcastic quip.  

He knew that the Avengers would be horrified if they knew of his association with Deadpool, but that was because they weren’t able to see the merc for who he was. Sure, Wade killed people. Okay, Wade had killed _a lot_ of people. He made a living as a mercenary and was good at his job, which automatically condemned him in the eyes of the righteous Avengers. They would never look beyond his past and see the ways that Wade was trying to make things right. The merc was in a constant battle with himself to make up for all the terrible things he had done, to tip the scales with more good deeds than bad. Most of his methods to do these good deeds were a little suspect, Peter would admit, but he appreciated the effort. He had done his fair share of wrong things as Spider-Man; he knew the guilt that came with failing to live up to the responsibility that came with the suit.

A harsh laugh startled him out of his melancholy thoughts. Wade rose to his feet, body rigid with tension. The merc brought his hands up slowly and began to clap slowly, his head cocked to the side as he stared mockingly behind his mask. A shiver of fear ran down Peter’s spine at the coldness of his expression, but he held his ground, determinedly not lowering his gaze.

“That was one impressive joke, Spidey.” The merc’s voice a threat underneath the layer of flatness. “All this time, I thought we were friends. It takes a special kind of person to be able to trick Deadpool like that, doesn’t it? Did you have bets going on how long it would take until I caught on? Or how much you could get me twisted around your little finger?”

“What? No, Wade, it wasn’t like that--” Peter rushed out, shaking his head fervently.

Wade cut him off with another harsh cackle, “Oh, no, doing this for a bet would just be _silly_. I could have killed you at any minute and what good would some extra cash do you if you were _dead_ , huh? No, I see what this is. This is your initiation into the Avengers, right? I always _did_ peg them as the hazing frat boy types. Let me guess, if you tricked me into being captured or going in willingly, you get a nice new suit and a big badge with an “A” on it just for you. I hope there’s still time for you to con some other poor sap into your little game before you lose your spot.”

Peter couldn’t take this vicious rant any longer. Even knowing the accusations weren’t true, the words still stung. How could Wade even think he would do something like that?

“Stop it! Shut up!” Peter yelled before he could stop himself. “If that’s what I had to do to become an Avenger, I would tell them all to go to hell. I would never do that. I would never do something like that to you and you _know_ that. This doesn’t change anything. You _know_ me, Wade.”

“I don’t!” The merc held his hands up to cover his ears, shaking his head back and forth violently as if doing so would keep the truth from seeping in.

Peter stepped forward until he was inches away from the other man. “You know me. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you my real name sooner. I couldn’t. Every time I told someone my secret in the past, something bad happened to them. I couldn’t let that happen again. You are my friend and I thought I was protecting you, but I know that you don’t need me to protect you. I didn’t have to keep things secret from you. I see that now. There has never been some diabolical plan against you, just a stupid guy who hides behind his camera when he can’t hide behind the safety of a mask.”

Wade kept shaking his head, muttering unintelligibly under his breath. He started to pace back and forth around the room, stopping once in a while to kick something over or curse loudly.

“You were also wrong about another thing,” Peter said softly to Wade’s turned back. “I wasn’t grossed out or filled with some morbid curiosity when you had your mask up. I wasn’t staring at you to remember it for some story to tell people. I was staring at you because I was thinking about what it would be like to kiss you, dumbass.”

Wade stopped his pacing so suddenly that he toppled over into Peter’s desk. Books fell to the floor and an empty glass tipped over as the merc gripped the desktop to steady himself. He didn’t turn around. “I didn’t know it was possible for someone to be crazier than me.”

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes, “You’re still the craziest. You’re the one who took off before I had a chance to plant an extremely awkward and inexperienced kiss on you like I wanted. Though, that probably would have made you run for the hills all on its own.”

Peter felt the blush spread across his face as Wade turned to face him. He was internally grateful that the room was still dark as the blush deepened under his scrutinizing stare. The tension in the room was stifling.

“Crazy _and_ an idiot,” Wade giggled, bent over with the force of his laughter.

Peter scrunched up his face in confusion until he was knocked backwards into the wall. Wade had launched himself across the room and had him pinned before his spidey-senses even had a chance. His heart raced as he realized he wasn’t under attack. _Wow, I’m really off to a good start here, moron._ Wade’s hands gripped his hips tightly like he was afraid Peter would bolt away any second. He slid his hands up the merc’s chest until coming to a stop just under his neck. Neither man moved as they stood, foreheads pressed together and gasping breath.

“Take the mask off,” Peter whispered, desperate for the barrier that separated them to be gone.

Wade let out a shaking sigh, “I don’t want to scare you off, Petey.”

Peter traced the edge of the mask lightly, “Please. I’m not going anywhere.”

Reluctantly, Wade reached up with one hand and gripped the edge of the mask. He let out a low sound, almost a whimper. Peter covered his gloved hand with his own and gently guided it upwards, slowly revealing the scarred flesh underneath. Wade let the mask fall to the floor with a quiet thud and avoided Peter’s gaze, staring fixedly at the wall above the younger man’s head.

Peter took in the sight of Wade without his disguise. The skin was painful looking, every inch marred and irritated. All the hair the merc may have had before the experiments was long gone, scars taking its place across his scalp. Peter knew the pain Wade harbored about his appearance, but he didn’t see the monster that Deadpool was rumored to be under the suit. He could finally see into the bright, wide eyes of the man who had been tortured into madness and solitude for decades.

Wade flinched when Peter brought up a hand to trace down the side of his face. Peter wondered how long it had been since the other man had felt any kind of human contact without the barrier of his suit. The thought made his heart clench. Wade squeezed his eyes shut, mumbling to himself frantically, but making no move to pull away.

“Still not going anywhere,” Peter whispered.

The merc’s eyes shot open in shock for a second before Peter leaned in to press their lips together. The kiss was short, the touch tentative so he could see how the other man would react. He pulled away to lean their foreheads together again, keeping their lips close enough to feel Wade’s gasping breath. Peter waited for the nervous mumbling to start up again, but instead was met with another forceful kiss that pushed him back against the wall with a groan. The tentative speed had been replaced with frantic movements that made Peter moan into the kiss and tighten his grip on the back of Wade’s neck, his other hand cupping the merc’s jaw to deepen the contact.

This felt right. Peter had kept his little crush a secret for a while now, but to have everything out in the open and reciprocated like this was enough to make his head spin. He felt delirious as Wade pulled his hips closer, groaning at the combined hardness between their bodies.

Using a fraction of his enhanced strength, Peter slowly pushed against Wade’s chest until the other man’s legs bumped against the bed. The kiss broke with a gasp from them both as Wade looked down at him, the unspoken question in his eyes. Peter answered by reaching down to pull his own shirt off, tossing it to the floor with a smirk that he hoped was more confident and less awkward that he suspected it looked. Wade’s eyes widened almost comically as Peter moved to undo his belt and push his jeans and boxers to the floor. _If I’m going to look like a bumbling teenager, I might as well just get it all out of the way._

Wade’s hands came to rest on his own belt, but the shakiness of the movement caught Peter’s attention. He stopped him before the buckle was undone. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, alright? We can still stop.”

The answering laugh was edging on hysterical, “I don’t want to stop, Petey. I really, really, really don’t, but you will once you see how much worse it all gets underneath the rest of this beautiful suit. It’s not quite as dashing to look at when you see the whole picture.”

Peter wanted to hurt anyone who had ever contributed to that statement in Wade’s past. “I’m going to prove you wrong on that in the future, but how about you do what makes you comfortable this time? Taking the mask off was a huge step, so if you want to keep the rest on, that’s okay. Well maybe you could...you know...to make it easier….” He rubbed the front of Wade’s pants pointedly.

The merc made a sound half like a feral growl before pushing Peter carefully down onto the bed. He quickly unzipped his pants and tugged them down enough to be able to press back down against Peter, the feeling of exposed skin finally touching enough to make both men gasp into each other’s open mouths. He caught a glimpse of the merc’s cock, as scarred as the rest of Wade’s body, but Peter’s only reaction was to pull the other man as close as possible. He rocked upwards, grinding against Wade eagerly.

They continued to move together until Peter lost track of time, his head dizzy with excitement. He needed more. More friction, more contact, more Wade. With no small amount of reluctance, he pulled back from Wade’s mouth just enough to catch his breath for a second. Wade faltered at the sudden move, eyes wide and self-conscious.

“I want you to…” Peter began, cutting off before he could voice his request. _How did you ever even do anything with Gwen without her laughing in your face? This is ridiculous. It’s not like I’m a blushing virgin here. Wait, why am I even thinking about this right now? Stop thinking so much, Parker! You’re ruining it!_

If anyone knew what it was like to be arguing inside your own head, it was Wade. He seemed aware of Peter’s own internal dialogue, so the younger man was relieved when Wade pushed the self-deprecating thoughts from his mind with another long kiss. Peter registered the sound of the merc rummaging through the drawer in the nightstand, knocking things over as he scrambled one-handed for the bottle of lube and a condom. _I’m going to wonder about why he even knows where I keep that stuff later._

Wade kept the kiss going to distract from the initial discomfort as he began to work Peter open. He kept his fingers slow, gentle, which was a surprise at first. Peter had expected the merc to work quickly, for his movements to be rough. The amount of care that Wade was putting into stretching him open made Peter sigh happily into their kiss. There was a small fraction of stinging, but that feeling soon shifted into something that had him pressing back against Wade’s fingers for more.

Peter whined at the emptiness as Wade withdrew his fingers. His eyes flashed open to object and were met with Wade’s stare, one last question before going further. Peter answered by rocking his hips upwards, prompting Wade to frantically tear open a wrapper and roll a condom down over himself.

The initial push in was more uncomfortable than painful, but Wade went slow. It wasn’t long before the two men were picking up a rhythm; the thrusts slow, but deep. This was so much better than the frantic scenarios that Peter had expected. This was something that _meant_ something. He moved his hands up to frame the sides of Wade’s face, lightly stroking the scars that he hoped he would come to memorize. Both men stared back at each other with a sense of peace that neither had hoped to find again.

 **  
**When the two finally came to lay next to each other, they were both exhausted and almost deliriously content. Peter rested his head on Wade’s chest, watching the snow continue to fall outside the window. For once, Wade had no rambling or jokes tumbling out of his mouth and Peter had no pangs of loneliness.


End file.
